Stone Echoes

I. Welcome to Hythe

I apologise for the shadow. That's my drawing, so it's probably pretty bad. Sorry.

The crunching of leaves under my feet wee the only noise as I walked the dirt forest paths. I had just come home and all I wanted to do was go back to my roots, literally. I soon stopped and stared up at my tree. It was mine, in all sense of the word. I had long ago claimed it, and no one seemed bothered by it. Most, in fact, did not know of its existence. It sat in the centre of a small clearing in the woods behind the library. The area itself was quite peaceful, far enough away for the city lights to be unable to block out the stars, but close enough for the background ambiance of the city to be heard. To me, it was the perfect spot. The tree had a small area at the base of its branches just large enough for me, and secluded away from the rest of the world. On days of summers long past, I would curl up there with a book and lose myself. The tree was surrounded by a circle of stones, stones which I had never had the courage to move. It's not as if there was a sign saying not to, but they just gave me a feeling.

I had, once again, curled up in my spot with a nice book, and found my eyes slipping shut in the warmth of the afternoon sun. When I awoke, the moon was up high in the sky and my book was reading on my lap. I pulled my phone from my pocket with slight difficulty and glanced at the time. 12:00. Midnight, The Witching Hour, whatever you want to call it. In Hythe, there was one unspoken rule that everyone knew. Don't be out at Midnight. Few people did, but those who do aren't seen again. I quickly jumped down from the tree, and that's when I heard it.

Church bells, not too far away. It couldn't be the actual church, they didn't actually have any bells. I knew I should be getting home, but there was something about the bells that just drew me towards them. After quite a while of walking, I finally found the source, the Cloister; an old monastery that was converted into the Town Hall after a fire. I walked up to it and pushed at the large wooden doors, surprised to find them unlocked. They were always locked at night.

I shook my head. No, I thought, I shouldn't be doing this. I should be back home. It's dangerous at this time of night. No matter my internal disagreement, my body continued on. At this point, I had no control over it. It just kept walking and walking.

I started to panic, crying for help, but all of it was within myself. I was terrified, and I feared for my life.

Suddenly, I stopped. I couldn't move, but I wished I could as I heard footsteps off to my right. I started to panic, and my body responded in similar manner. My heart began to race and my breathing turning into short, quick gasps of air to fill my under inflated lungs. I needed more oxygen. My arms were realised, but I didn't notice as I began to claw at my throats desperate for air. My skin began to grow hotter and hotter until it felt as if I were being burned alive.

The footsteps stopped and all the pain disappeared.

I looked to where the footsteps had last been, and saw a figure cloaked in a brown robe, holding out a rosary like a shield. I could faintly hear a voice in the breeze, crying, "Back! Back, you hellish fire, stay away."

His cries of warning soon became those of fear, then they were just cries. Cries of pain and terror which flew to my ears. I watched as, suddenly, he simply lit up in flames and slowly burned to death. The ashes, as they were all that were left of him, let out a spark and disappeared.

My body was realised from whatever's hold had trapped it, and simply collapsed. My breath shuddered and I struggled to my feet. As soon as I was upright, I quickly ran from the building and escaped while I could. Who knew what else could make an attempt on my life that night?

The moment I entered my wind blown apartment, I collapsed on the couch and let the exhaustion take me. I soon slipped into the oblivion of sleep.

I woke up the next morning gasping, beads of sweat sticking my hair to my forehead. The event from the night before giving me nightmares. Great, that's just what I need, I thought. I scrambled out of bed, quickly dressing in my normal button up and jeans, and raced out the door, banana in hand.

I walked down the streets of the city, enjoying the buzz of life. The popular music of the week rang from the open windows of the CD shop. The scent of fresh baked bread and pastries wafted from the bakery across the street. I gave a few people a wave, but kept moving to the Cloister. I pushed the door open and looked around.

"Gwen, hi." Cara, the older woman at the desk, said.

I gave a forced smile. "Hey, Cara. How are you?"

"I'm fine, how are you?" She said.

"Okay. I'm okay."

I looked around, searching for the robed figure
I had seen all but the night before. The room around me was empty, all except me and Cara. I wandered into one of the halls, looking at the newspaper clippings reporting the old monastery fire. Almost all the monks had died in it. Monks... Of course, I thought, the man from last night was a gho- I looked at one of the pictures, only to see the same man staring back at me. Brother Joseph. He was much younger in this photo and much less... burning, but it was certainly him. I traced my finger over the glass in the frame.

"What happened for you to stick around?" I murmured.

I shook my head and walked out of the building quickly, as to banish such dark thoughts from my mind. I knew where to go. The only place that every truly made me feel welcome and safe, besides my tree, was-

"The library."

I smiled up at the shadowy building, passing by the old graveyard with the ease of years. The building itself had a warm feel. Made up of wooden logs, it has once been a great meeting hall in the town when Rhode Island had still only been a colony. The town added onto it with brick and stone, but the original wooden structure was still there and gave it a warm feel. The stone and brick were soft and airy, and only made the wood look better in contrast. The building's interior was light and whimsical. Cut outs of book characters were everywhere, soft couches and chairs lined almost every room in the building. Books shelves flooded the structure and books flooded those shelves. All in all, it was just a calm, serine sort of place. My favourite part, however, was that any time you opened a book, the smell of old pages, years-dry ink, and warm dust would flood your senses. This smell is what most would call "Old Book Smell", and I loved it.

I signed out a book, talking for a while with some of my favourite librarians, and left the building, escaping on the reasonably long walk to my tree. I climbed up into its branches and nestled down. I opened the book where I had stopped before entering the forest, as to not walk into trees (a fear which I had done far too often in my youth), and read.

I read for hours, and found it dusk when I finally looked up. Now, the woods had always been my safe haven, but that might, they seemed to terrify me. Perhaps it was my encounter last night. Perhaps it was the all around eerie setting the dying light seemed to give the area.

The thing that most caused me to flee, I believe, was the whispers which the wind carried, crying out, "Don't leave us. Save us. You must."

Word Count: 1393
Goal: 1 comment and (maybe) one vote

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Bye!

"Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it."
- Lloyd Alexander